


The Birthday Experience

by allouette



Category: The Voice RPF
Genre: M/M, birthday fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-18
Updated: 2013-03-18
Packaged: 2017-12-05 18:41:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/726579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allouette/pseuds/allouette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a rule of thumb, Adam never really makes a big deal out of birthdays.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Birthday Experience

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday, Adam! 98% of this was written last night before I got stuck and needed a little nudge. Thanks to Sandra for that and the beta.

As a rule of thumb, Adam never really makes a big deal out of birthdays. To him, it’s sort of like his philosophy when it comes to Valentine’s Day; people should be celebrating life every single day, not just one day out of the year. His family and friends know he doesn’t care for presents, hasn’t since he was a kid. Parties, on the other hand, are a different story. Not even Adam can pass up a good party, and if it just happens to be for his birthday, then well, he can’t really complain about it too much. Especially when there’s free booze.

What he can’t exactly figure out this time, though, is why he’s being sent home early from a perfectly good party. It doesn’t seem to be breaking up when both James and Gene are ushering him toward the door, even though they insist that everyone else will be following right behind him, they swear, the night is definitely over. 

“But it’s barely even 9:30!”

“What can I say, nights end earlier the older you get, buddy,” James says, giving Adam a solid clap on the shoulder. “Happy Birthday!” he grins and then promptly shuts the door in Adam’s face.

To say Adam is pissed as he heads home would be an understatement, even though he is smart enough to realize something else is going on. His friends are not that smooth. There’s nothing slick about them kicking him out of the party when their scheming ways are written all over their faces. So he’s pissed on principle because he doesn’t know what’s going on and he really, really hates not knowing, and he’s going home early on top of it all. Fuck birthdays, man.

When Adam gets home, he throws his keys aside as the door slams closed behind him. He makes sure it’s locked before he heads toward the kitchen, and ends up stopping dead in his tracks. Because leaning against his dining room table stands Blake. With blue ribbon wrapped all around and across his torso, down each of his legs, and a bow stuck to the middle of his shirt. Adam blinks at the sight before him for a moment, then snorts out a laugh.

“I should have guessed you were involved,” he says. “How long have you been here?”

“A couple of hours. I should probably be glad that Gene left most of my arms free when he wrapped me up in this crap.”

“ _Gene_ did this to you?”

“Did you think I did this to myself?”

Adam laughs again and closes the gap between them, fingering the bow in the middle of Blake’s chest. He has to admit that blue is a really good color on Blake; it makes his eyes shine brighter than they already do, irises darker and more intense than normal. The way they look when he wears those blue shirts that drive Adam just a little bit crazy. “So you’re my present, huh?”

Blake shrugs a shoulder as best he can in the confines of the ribbon and gives Adam a lazy smile. “Somethin’ like that, I reckon. Are you disappointed?”

Adam licks his lips, his eyes raking up and down the long line of Blake’s body. “I’ll let you know once I get you open,” he says, pulling Blake by the hand in the direction of the bedroom.

“That was terrible.”

“Shut up, it’s my birthday. It was good, and you know it.”

“Yeah, it really was,” Blake replies with a sigh. 

Neither of them speak again until they get to Adam’s room, and Adam tugs on the bow, unsticking it from Blake’s shirt (duct tape, really?) which helps the rest of the ribbon begin to fall away on its own. Adam still has to do some unwinding, though, until the endless feet of ribbon are left in a pile on the floor at their feet. 

“You know what would’ve made that even better?” Adam asks as he leans in to press his lips to Blake's, his hands coming up to get to work on the buttons on the front of Blake’s shirt.

“Hmm?”

“You being naked.”

Blake laughs, can’t help it, and shakes his head. “Oh, hell no. First of all, just _no_. Second of all, would you really want to do that to Gene?”

“He’s a team player, he’d get over it.”

“No, I really don’t think he would.”

“You’re right, he would never forgive me. This way was definitely better.”

“Since we’re talkin’ instead of strippin’, I brought you something,” Blake says and steps out of Adam’s reach. He grabs his duffle bag from the corner of the room and carefully pulls out a dark wooden box. It’s not cleverly wrapped because the name of the gift is elegantly etched on the front, and once Adam sees it, he’s shaking his head, but Blake doesn’t really care. He hands it over, anyway.

“You did not.”

“I did.”

Adam sits down on the edge of the bed as he opens the box, a golden velvet bag nestled inside protecting glass and liquor. “Blake. This is like, a six hundred dollar bottle of tequila.”

“I am aware of that. I did pay for it, you know.”

“But… you won’t pay more than twenty five bucks for a bottle of Bacardi.”

Blake laughs, dragging a hand through his hair before he dives back into his bag again. “We aren’t talkin’ about me right now, though. And it’s not my birthday, either,” he says, holding up two new shot glasses wrapped in tissue paper to keep them safe during transport. 

The bottle of Gran Patrón Burdeos is taken out of its box, the cork carefully removed. Adam inhales a deep breath over the top of the bottle and his mouth literally waters at the rich, slightly sweet scent. He pours the two shots, setting the bottle down on the bedside table and putting the stopper in.

“This is going to be an experience,” he says, handing one of the glasses to Blake. “And since I like you so much for some reason unknown to me, I’m going to be nice enough to share it with you.”

With a nod, Blake accepts the glass because although he did bring two, he wasn’t necessarily expecting Adam to share with him. Was he hoping? Maybe a little. But did he automatically assume that Adam was going to break open the bottle and give Blake a drink? Absolutely not. So the fact that that’s what Adam has done makes him ridiculously happy. 

“To the birthday boy?” Blake suggests as a toast, but Adam just rolls his eyes.

“Sure. And to the awesome birthday sex you’re about to give me.”

Blake almost can’t take his shot because he’s laughing too much, but he finally gets it down, and he understands immediately what Adam means by it being an experience. It’s undoubtedly the best, smoothest tequila he’s ever tasted, and if the pleased look on Adam’s face is anything to go by, he definitely picked out the right present.

Glasses set aside, Adam returns to the task of getting Blake’s shirt unbuttoned the rest of the way. “Since it’s my birthday, are you going to tell me I get whatever I want?”

“You’re a little terrifying sometimes, you know that?”

Adam’s answering grin is gleeful as Blake shrugs out of his shirt, Adam pulling his own up and off over his head. When he’s free, Blake has his back turned, and Adam’s mouth is suddenly a whole lot dryer. “What the hell is that?” 

Blake arches his neck, trying to see what Adam is looking at on his back. “Oh right. I got it done a few weeks ago. What do you think?” Blake’s feigned innocence drives him crazy because he has to know what Adam thinks of a tattoo of a guitar on his shoulder - one that looks a hell of lot like the one Adam has on his arm - just as he knows it’s taking everything in Adam’s power not to knock him to the bed and run his tongue over the tattoo a hundred times.

“You’re a lunatic,” he grins, sliding a hand around Blake’s arm to touch the tattoo, fingers digging into inked skin. He’s almost jealous of it, jealous that it gets to be closer to Blake’s skin than he can ever get. He presses a kiss to Blake’s mouth, lingering there for a few long moments as warm hands smooth over his shoulders. “Tequila _and_ a tattoo? It really is my birthday.”

“I’m guessin’ that means you like it?” Blake smirks, Adam’s lips barely ghosting over his own. 

“You know I like everything you do, Shelton,” Adam murmurs against Blake’s lips.

Blake sighs softly because the feeling is oh so mutual; when Adam is concerned, all signs point straight to _fuck yes_. “Tell me what you want.”

Hands slide into Blake’s back pockets, hauling him in by the hips until their bodies are pressed flush together when Adam answers: “Everything.”


End file.
